Maybe Overrated
by Yessian
Summary: Fang and Iggy in the park on the Holidays.


**A/N: for the Fang and Iggy fans out there :) Could be friendship or bromance. Happy Holidays!**

**Maybe Overrated**

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This was the only time he could see anything. Everything was white in the park, just as it was in Antarctica - snow _everywhere_, from the forlorn lamposts and the normally green expanse, to the leafless trees and the stark, blinding sky their branches pierced. Iggy took a walk around, gazing in awe of it all.

"Walking in a winter wonderland", indeed. Sparrows fluttered here and there, and he could only stare, eating greedily with his eyes, still marveling at the re-found ability to place a picture to a sound. Sight was taken so much for granted, underrated, until it was taken away...

Dr. Martinez had made them all bundle up for the weather; Ella had even gotten him a thick, warm green scarf. He could hear the others having a furious snowball fight, and he gave a thought to join them later. For right now...he stared at the bridge, where a couple stood arm-in-arm, peering at the icy deluge running below. Yes, he could see the red of her hat, the blue of his earmuffs against the paper background. And he cherished them, as much as he cherished the colors of the skin that he could see - pinkish at her ears, deep brown at his nose.

A throbbing began behind his eyes, and Iggy massaged them, annoyed. A headache, now? He guessed it was because of too much light reflecting off the snow. It really was bright out. He shuffled along the walkway until he'd come to a bench between two scraggly, weighted spruce trees, and flopped down with a sigh.

These things never lasted. He was the "mistake" of the bunch, even though his mutations seemed to be trying to compensate for his lack of sight; however, Iggy was starting to get the feeling that there was only so much compensation available. If it was doing everything possible _but_ healing his eyes to the way they _were,_ then it was probably a safe bet that he never would be able to properly see and truly appreciate anything, again. He couldn't tote a white wall everywhere he went to be able to see anything, after all.

...But it was something special, while it lasted... Iggy leaned back his head and closed his eyes.

"Enjoying the view?" Someone muttered. Iggy opened his eyes wearily. He could still see, but he couldn't see the person. He could _feel_ the person sliding their hands easily into his shoulders, circling the stiff muscles beneath. Iggy closed an eye. "I was. It's a pity you're only invisible in the snow - when it's not _snowing."_

Fang's light chuckle preceded the appearance of his grin, like the Cheshire Cat, with the rest of his dark form following behind. His massive wings rose to half-embrace the air around the both of their heads, acting as umbrellas against the snowfall. He took on an impersonation of a villainous tone. "Curses, foiled again. Sneak-attacks are just impossible on you, no matter what, aren't they?"

"Mmmm," Iggy groaned quietly, rolling his shoulders against Fang's ministrations, and closing the other eye. "I'd tell you to give up, but THIS is a new tactic... sneaking up and kneading me into submission, Your Dastardliness?"

"Tch. It's been a long time coming, infidel."

_And ain't THAT the truth,_ thought Iggy, relaxing into it. It had been at least a week since their last fight, and even though they were fast healers and all that, with their lifestyle, not having _some_ stiffness every day was unheard of. He groaned again and arched his back, to Fang's amusement. "Ah, RIGHT there..."

"You got a small safe in your back in that spot. You sure?"

"_Yeeessss. _Hard, too, please." Iggy grimaced at the cracking sounds and pressure administered as Fang obliged, working out the kinks and knots. "I should be a masseuse, instead of an evil maniac," he deadpanned. A snicker from Iggy. "A huge improvement, I'd think, good sir - if your main technique of destroying your enemies is to satisfy them so, wot wot!"

Fang rolled his eyes and gave an extra dig for that one. "Ugh, you make me sound like a...like a hooker."

"You ARE a hooker."

"Can't help it that the ladies like me so much. At least _I_ got a girlfriend."

"Yeah, right. If you're referring to Max, I still think that's unbelievably creepy." Iggy smirked. "I mean, imagine what your _kids_ are gonna look like..."

The other's lip quirked. "Silence, Blasphemer. Or I will end you," he said flatly. "They'd still come out looking MUCH better than you."

"No one's better looking than me."

"Didn't I just tell you to 'silence'?"

"No, this Blasphemer is blind AND deaf, too - urrrggh...that's good..." Iggy let his head fall to the side, as Fang started gently kneading at the back of his neck. He really should think up a job in massage therapy, he thought, as the tension ran out of his head and neck like magic. This was heavenly treatment!

"I think," Fang proposed as he continued, "that the Blasphemer is being blasphemous because he's a little _jealous._"

"I wouldn't...date Max...on my life..." His ironic client ground out sluggishly. Fang moved back down to his shoulderblades, and Iggy's wings extended slowly from either side, with a feeling close to euphoria.

Fang would try to keep a straight face. "Would you date me?"

A momen'ts pause, and then an opened eye, staring at him quizzically. "...Huh?"

"Well, you got me wondering...all this blasphemous attitude and talk about satisfaction and all that -"

"No, never. I'd expect it would be a one-night-stand only, instead of a long-term relationship," he played along. "But you ARE about as good-looking as myself..."

"Imagine _our_ kids," Fang quipped, and they laughed together, the mental image, and its public reception, almost too funny to imagine at all. Fang slapped his shoulders and backed off, done, and Iggy stretched widely, yawning. Fang was in a rare good mood today. It was almost like old times. They shook the snow from their feathers and started off down the pathway, to pick up the others, who had changed their game to a cumulative snowman operation.

"What say we head home, get some coacoa from Dr. M and Ella? It's getting colder."

"Amen to that."

With a jolt, Iggy realized he didn't want to leave. If they did, he wouldn't be able to see anything anymore.

But Fang put an arm around his shoulder, perhaps sensing his reluctance, and Iggy remembered, how if sight was taken for granted, at least he still had this. Touch and warmth, hearing and understanding. Speech and joking; smell, to identify Fang's. Taste, for the air between them. All other senses were just as important. He'd rather have Fang than not at all, even if he couldn't see him.

He smiled and slid an arm around his waist. That being said, maybe sight _was_ kind of overrated, after all.


End file.
